Hetalia Angsts
by beingawesome
Summary: Each country, no matter who, has had his or her bad moments. They've all had instances where they've felt pushed down or broken. This is a collection of their sorrows. Requests will be taken.
1. Denmark

_Denmark: the stupid old nation who could only laugh at nothing in particular and drink beer 24/7._

That's what everyone thought, right? They thought that Denmark was weak; that he was nothing but an old bugger throughout his very long life.

How could they have forgotten?  
Denmark wasn't always as uninvolved as he was now.  
He was powerful at one point.  
He was the _king_ of Northern Europe.

He remembers the thrill as though it was only yesterday when people trembled at the _mere mention_ of his name.  
Now?  
Now, everyone hates him. Even Norway and Iceland. Finland and Sweden too. They call him weak, hissing his name with contempt, reducing him to nothing but _dust to be crushed under their feet_.

But they forget.  
They forget that Denmark has history.  
They forget that he has pride.  
They forget that the pride won't allow him to fall.

He is Denmark, and he _refuses_ to be silenced.

* * *

**How was it? I hope it wasn't too repetitive or something; it's something that I could imagine Denmark thinking, with the way everyone treats him.**

**~beingawesome**


	2. America

_8:40 am- Washington D.C._

America gave a nervous glance at each occupant of the room, his hands trembling and sweaty, and his knees, wobbly.

_Something was going to happen._

He tried his hardest to not get distracted, but against his own will, his breathing labored, and his vision grew hazy and unfocused. He was supposed to be giving his talk on how to tackle global warming, but hadn't realized that he had simply stopped, until a voice broke him from his horrified stupor.

"America? Are you alright?" He heard someone, England, maybe, ask. "You don't have to go through with your speech."

"N-no." He found himself forcing a smile on. "I just blanked out for a sec, that's all."

He continued his talk, brokenly, all the while thinking that something… _something_ was horribly wrong.

_8:46 am- Washington D.C._

Clear blue eyes widened in alarm and fear, and he doubled over, clutching his stomach as blood splattered out of his mouth. He was dimly aware of the nations around him screaming in panic and horror, but he could only comprehend one thing…

_The North Tower was hit._

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS HAPPENING?!" The shout of anger obviously belonged to England; normally, America would find it hilarious. Now, he couldn't even speak. America couldn't speak.

How funny.

"The tower, aru!" He heard China yell. "The World Trade Center is being attacked, aru!"

'_Well, obviously!' _America wanted to scream. _'Just shut up and do something useful.'_

He did scream, only not the way he wanted to. He sobbed brokenly, the images of his people meeting their horrific ends embedded into his mind.

A tall, pale man, wearing a heavy scarf took America into his arms. America wanted to cry. Of all people, _Russia_ was taking care of him.

Sorrowful violet eyes looked down at him, as he was hoisted carefully onto the man's lap.

_9:03 am- Washington D.C._

He arched his back, his mouth open in a silent scream.

_It hurt so, so much…_

"Stop it!" He gripped his hair, staining it crimson, from the blood on his hands. "Make it stop,_ please_!_"_

"The South Tower, aru! It's been hit too!"

He heard Russia growl in anger.

His head throbbed.

He couldn't see.

His insides were burning _painfully_.

_Oh Lord, please make it stop…please…_

_9:37 AM- Washington D.C._

"Mon Dieu!" He heard France's terrified voice, before everything went black.

The Pentagon was hit.

He was dimly aware of someone screaming…_was it him?_

His entire body was numb from the pain, and he was _tired and broken and upset and why wasn't anyone helping him?_

It wouldn't stop.

The screaming, the fire, the _anguish_…

_They were killing him from the inside_.


	3. Liechtenstein

_She was Liechtenstein: happy, cheerful, innocent Liechtenstein._

_Or was she? Was she truly happy? Innocent?_

Liechtenstein walked around the house, a small smile on her face as she wondered whether Switzerland, her elder brother, would like the sandwiches she had carefully made. As she walked, her eyes widened fractionally when she saw that bits of paper were scattered around everywhere.

_'__I must make sure it's neat here!_' She thought fiercely. _'__Big brother might find it annoying!'_

She bent down, picking up the scraps of paper from the floor, and gathering them onto her hand.

"Hm, I wonder what these are." She murmured to herself, before turning one of the larger pieces over.

She gasped loudly.

It was written '_1679-1682 witch trials'. _She hastily checked another piece, and what she saw, made her eyes wet with moisture.

'_Witchcraft could be the only reason f-'_

Liechtenstein shook her head, trying not to remember those cursed years, trying not to remember the chain of deaths.

_"__Child, you must do something!" An old woman was kneeling in front of her. "You are the only one we can trust. Please, save my daughter from this fate!"_

_Liechtenstein shook her head in horror, stepping back, before fleeing the scene._

Liechtenstein clenched her fists.

_"__Stop it!" She yelled angrily at one of the men conducting the burnings. "You can't keep doing this! We might be killing innocent people!"_

_The man stared hard at her. "Are you supporting those witches too? What have they done to you? What mind magic did they perform?!"_

"They-they didn't…" She murmured. "They didn't do anything!"

_"__My lord, it would seem that these witch trials are quite illegal." vor Ort, the priest, said calmly. "All of these killings have been conducted unlawfully."_

_Prince Eusebius stared hard at him. "Of this you are sure?"_

_"__Absolutely."_

_Liechtenstein watched from afar, hope welling up in her chest._

"It didn't make a difference, did it? All those people died because of their _stupid, stupid_ country!" Liechtenstein finally sobbed. "It's my fault! I didn't…I didn't protect them. I didn't protect my people."

Quickly, she gathered up the remaining pieces, and hurried to the trash can, dumping them inside, and backing away.

Despite the halt, it didn't prevent the 100 deaths. It didn't help anyone; Liechtenstein had been too weak-willed. It was _all her fault._

_No, Liechtenstein wasn't happy or cheerful. She had horrors that went beyond those of other nations, but for her sake, she would keep smiling through the pain._

* * *

**I know it isn't that great. I did what I could, sorry.**

**~beingawesome**


	4. Norway

Norway dreamt.

He twisted and turned in his sheets, whimpering and sweating…something he would never consciously do.

Norway was, undoubtedly, a strong-willed nation. He was also a seemingly untouchable, _invincible_ nation. But what no one knew was that, like any other nation, Norway's greatest fear was his ability to dream.

His dreams were what made him wake up before the crack of dawn, breathing harshly and suppressing his tears of pain. His dreams were what made him stay awake for as long as he could, what made him need to cover his eye bags in the early morning.

This time, it was one of the worst of them all…

_Norway strolled in the park, a light smile etched on his face. It was not a bright sunny day, which was why Norway found it acceptable to go out. It was slightly cloudy, so he would not faint due to the sweltering heat._

_Slottsparken was extremely peaceful, actually._

_A few children raced past him, with Norway just dodging them in time so that he would not be the cause of any crying. Their mother, a young brunette, seemed to be panicking running behind them and yelling for them to stop, to no avail._

"_Andrea!" She yelled. "Nils! Come back here, else you won't get to eat the cake in our fridge!"_

_Luckily for her, the children stopped and returned, looking panicked._

"_No, mama!" The little boy protested, "I want cake!"_

"_Me too!" The girl demanded._

_Norway decided to intervene._

"_Well, hello there." He smiled at the children, then at the unsure mother. It might have been because of his formal suit, but Norway decided not to ponder on it._

"_I heard that you've been giving your mor* a hard time?" He asked the children, whose eyes were impossibly wide by then._

"_Us?" The boy defended. "N-no!"_

"_Well, that's alright." Norway answered him. "I quite like cake too."_

"_Really, mister?" Andrea wondered. "Do you like chocolate? I like chocolate."_

_Norway hid his grimace. "Chocolate? No, I'm afraid not. Chocolate cake can only be eaten by special children."_

_A smile lit her face, and Norway could not help but chuckle._

"_You have very nice children.' He said politely to the woman, who was looking at him like he was a godsend._

_Which he was, he speculated. He was technically their country._

"_Y-yes, thank you so much." The brunette smiled, before she called to the children. "Come here children!"_

_When they began to make their way to their mother, Norway's eyes widened and his breath stuttered because he could feel that something was terribly wrong._

Norway let out an almost silent whimper.

_The mother seemed to have noticed his sudden change in posture, because she opened her mouth to ask him what was wrong but she did not even get a chance._

_A loud BOOM sounded, and Norway gasped, hand fisting itself in his shirt near the area where his heart was._

_It burned._

_Smoke emanated from a group of buildings in the distance, and Norway had a sinking feeling. Those were the Regjeringskvartalet: the government offices._

"_Andrea! What's wrong?!" Norway watched in a daze as the mother screamed for her crying children. Wait, they were crying? Norway did not even notice._

"_Sis, sis!" The brother was also crying for his wide-eyed sister._

_Norway could not breathe, but he staggered towards the trio, on his knees in front of the child. He placed a hand on her tiny shoulder, relieved when she turned to look at him._

"_Can you hear me?" He asked as calmly as he could, despite hearing so many screams of pain in his head (he wanted them to stop, to leave him alone)._

_Her eyes filled with tears as she realized, as her mother did, that she could not hear anything. Never again would her ears function._

_Norway held back a sob and looked at the mother._

"_I am sorry." He wanted to kill himself (why couldn't he ever do anything?), "I need to go."_

_And he ran._

"N-no!"

_Another two hours later, while he was helping out with the bodies (so many bodies, so much blood) he felt it again._

_The searing pain hit his heart so fast that it ripped a cry of anguish from the personification's lips._

_He didn't need the sudden bout of screaming to know what had happened. His knees wobbled, before giving out, sending him crashing on the bloodied pavement._

"_No," Norway whispered to himself brokenly. "No, no, no, no-"_

"NO!" His eyes a wide blue, Norway ripped away his sheets, breathing hard. "No…"

Silent sobs left him as he curled into himself, shielding himself from everything. He could still hear the screams in his head, feel the people's anguish for losing their loved ones, could feel his heart thrum with disappointment because he could have stopped it, _he could have stopped it_,_ hecouldhavestoppedit-_

A shudder ran down his spine as he remained in his bed, rocking himself back and forth to keep away his night terrors that could only remind himself of his failure.

Norway was not invincible…he was anything but.

* * *

**Sorry if this isn't what you guys were looking for. This was actually a little challenging for me to write, because Norway's reaction to these attacks was a little difficult to work out. Additionally, there was a lot of research that had to be done so it took a while for me to actually sit down and do it.**


	5. Russia

Sorrowful amethyst eyes strain against the dark, as Russia gazes at his reflection in the mirror in a dimly lit room. It always snows in his country, to the point that what once felt like home now feels like an eternal prison. Even when he was a small child, Russia knew he would face nothing but a cruel fate…and that is exactly how it is turning out to be.

"Why must I be so..?" He trails off, eyes screwing tightly closed, trying to keep back the stinging. He hasn't cried in decades; he has told himself to never let that weakness overcome him _again_. If only his fellow nations would _accept_ him…if they could at _least_ do that, Russia would feel happier than he would with acres of sunflowers.

Yet, no matter what he wants, he will not get it.

Friendship, he knows now, is very difficult to earn…at least, for him. Everyone judges a book by its cover, and Russia just happens to be an extremely ugly one…but no matter. It shouldn't stop him, right? He still has to keep living and living and dying for eternity, without a single genuine _smile_ directed at him. He doesn't know what he expects anymore, why he keeps trying to approach the other nations with a stupid, feeble, _useless_ hope, what he so foolishly wants to gain. Friendship? That simply does not exist.

It is at times like these, that Russia wants so desperately to fade. He would join the Ancients and live a happy, a _happier_, life with them, because they would not fear him all the time, or so he hopes. From what he has heard of them, they seem to be the most courageous of the nations, so they would definitely show him some, just _some_, mercy.

But, no, Russia could simply never experience the happiness that the others could; he could never have any support. He would _always_ be forced to curl into himself on those dark, stormy nights. He would _always_ have to harshly wipe at his own tears. He would _always_ be alone.

_Always_.


End file.
